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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168310">Escapism</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiricrose/pseuds/vampiricrose'>vampiricrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Sharing Clothes, also rlly brief mention of sex lol, self indulgence baby, uhhh mentions of disorded eating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiricrose/pseuds/vampiricrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mao’s not home yet. It’s not unusual, if anything, Ritsu gets perplexed whenever Mao’s home before him.</p>
<p>Doesn’t mean he likes it, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Isara Mao/Sakuma Ritsu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Escapism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this in 3 hours good eveningg !!<br/>i didnt beta-read this nor did i get anyone to beta-read it so like i'm so sorry if this is bad<br/>anyway<br/>this is a self-indulgent de-stress fic so, like? woop woop<br/>enjoy...!!?!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mao’s not home yet. It’s not unusual, if anything, Ritsu gets perplexed whenever Mao’s home before him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Doesn’t mean he likes it, though.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He shuffles his shoes off at the door, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it ungracefully onto the floor. It was raining out, but he didn’t feel like getting an umbrella or pulling his hood up, so his hair has cold water droplets pouring down onto his shirt, and now the floor. He’s gonna get a cold if he doesn’t change his clothes or dry off, he reminds himself. It sounds like something Mao would say; warning him to take care of himself, even though Mao likes taking care of him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ritsu’s pulled out of his thoughts quickly by the reminder that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is,</span>
  </em>
  <span> infact, still freezing. He’d shower to get warm, but he remembers he still has the scent of Mao’s cologne on his skin, from when Mao had held him tight before leaving to do idolwork in the early morning, so he decides to opt with just drying his hair and changing.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Maybe he’ll go to sleep? It’d be nice to wake up to Mao crawling into bed with him, he thinks as he opens the door to their room. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Right; </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> room. His face and heart warm up at the reminder that he and Mao officially live together - actual cohabitation, something they talked about like a faraway dream back when they were in Yumenosaki full time, back when they were just idols in training and not proper, working adults. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He strips out of his shirt, soaked with rainwater and tossing it down on the floor, followed by pulling down the waistband of his pants and listening to the fabric slide down. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and turns to look at himself more.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ritsu doesn’t like the way his body looks. His skin is pulled taut over his ribcage, a side-effect of his bad eating habits, and he’s far too pale. There are scars on his body, the memories of which he can’t recall, and are faded but leave a white mark. He blinks a few times. There are some bruises, many from overworking himself and collapsing or from hurting himself when performing. But, there’s a fading purple one on his collarbone. He knows how he got that one, and he moves his hand to caress the mark. It’s from Mao; a few days ago, when he got carried away in a brief makeout session, letting his instincts take over and give into actions fueled by carnal desire.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ah… Ritsu’s getting carried away thinking about that. He continues his walk to the wardrobe, wondering what to wear. Lounge clothes, probably. Something comfortable. The rain beats heavily against the window, reminding him yet again that he needs something to wear.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>His eyes catch Mao’s shirt. It’s one of his favourites; a white shirt, saying ‘dunk’ on it. Driven out of pining, he grabs and pulls it off the hanger, bringing it to his face and realising it has the same scent of the cologne Ritsu has clinging onto him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ritsu slides the shirt on, smiling fondly. He can’t have the real Mao here to warm him up, so his clothes are the second best thing. Not even bothering to get anything on his legs, he flops down unceremoniously on the bed. His shirt is baggy enough on him to drown in it, so he doesn’t think he should care about wearing anything else.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Briefly, Ritsu wonders if Mao’s jacket is also here, but remembers that Mao rarely leaves it at home anymore. He’s started bringing it with him almost constantly, and although Ritsu digs the look of him in the jacket, something in him misses Mao’s reaction when he’d come home to Ritsu curled up on their bed, wearing nothing but his jacket wrapped around him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>His hair is still wet, he remembers. Ironically, that was the thing he initially planned to fix, but decides to ignore that fact and stays curled up, drifting away into a sleep of cherries and mocha.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Mao came home hours later - after the rain had stopped but had left uncomfortable humidity in the air, and when the orange skies had turned black. Trickstar’s meetings always end like that, stretching out hours for little decisions due to banter and half-hearted threats of murder, and it’s not as if Mao dislikes the squips and antics of his unit, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it just takes unreasonably long to get such small things over and done with</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He just wants to go to sleep, hug Ritsu from behind and feel him dig his forehead into his chest and be lulled to sleep that way. Mao’s always sure to be quiet when he gets home, no matter what time it is, as he knows that no matter what, Ritsu’s always exhausted when his meetings with Knights end. He’s not surprised; he’s unsure which of their two units is more chaotic.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Cracking open the door to their shared room, he’s surprised to see Ritsu not even under the covers. Simply curled up on top of the sheets, breathing slowly and steadily. He opens the door further, turning on the light and smiling softly when realising what Ritsu’s wearing. He’s always felt a sort of fondness and adoration towards Ritsu in his clothing. Small - it’s a way Mao describes Ritsu a lot in his mind. Small in his arms, small in his clothes, and he likes it, but he won’t ever admit it. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Mao scoops him up in his arms, feeling his stress of the day melt away at the soft noise Ritsu makes after being disturbed. He’d feel bad if Ritsu woke up, he honestly looks like he needs it, so he drags him under the duvet. Ritsu makes another noise at Mao trying to pull away to get his jeans off before sleeping, and Mao decides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, maybe I could just sleep with them on</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>So, he falls asleep like that. Ritsu being curled up in his arms, breathing slowly and Mao resting his chin on the top of his head. And they stay like that; for all of the night.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thankiez for reading!!<br/>this has so much of my headcanons in it i amliteraly vibing</p></blockquote></div></div>
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